


Yellow Grass

by AzraelTeki



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, seems dubcon at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelTeki/pseuds/AzraelTeki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boss indulges himself during a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Grass

**Author's Note:**

> lmao time to butcher another language. translations are all at the end. thank you very much for reading!

Cool night air blew through Boss's dull brown hair, sweeping tufts momentarily into his eyes. Small particles of sand and even some pebbles were picked up in the wind that licked past his face in increasing speeds. The beginnings of a sandstorm. Through the wind and sand he could make out the clay and brick of an outpost. It was relatively small, no door or window, but it was something. Boss fought against the wind to climb inside the refuge. Free from the wind that howled like dogs, Boss relaxed into the adobe wall.

“Что ты сказал, Даниил?” 

Boss turned his head quickly, instantly on guard, hand already reaching for his gun. His eyes locked with that of the shocked and scared Russian boy. In a mere instant Boss analyzed the soldier in front of him. Skinny build. Dark blonde hair, about as dark as the dead yellow grass that dotted the inside of the outpost, and dark eyes veiled in fear. He couldn't have been a day over 23. 

Boss drew his gun, causing the boy's hands to snap to the air on opposite sides of his head. He began to shake as Boss continued to eye him up and down. There were pages of some magazine strewn about the ground, some stuck out from underneath the patched up air mattress. Boss's gaze hardened as closer inspection revealed they were pornographic. He couldn't really blame the guy, spending months in the Afghan wilderness can make a guy desperate; but oh how embarrassed he must be. Imagine getting shot through the brain and your comrades find you dead with your dick out. 

Boss had to restrain a laugh, so he softened his iron gaze instead. He put his gun away, yet still the young man whimpered. He held out his hand and curled his index finger, gesturing for the boy to get up and walk over. He did so, eyes fixated on the ground and hands by his head. As he stood his gun fell out of its holster that had gone out of place when he pulled down his pants which were bunched around his upper thighs. 

“Пожалуйста, не убивайте меня...я сделаю что-нибудь.” 

Boss didn't understand a single word, but recognized the fear. Was it really ethical what he was about to do? Well it certainly was one of the more ethical things compared to the backlog of events he had behind him. He pushed two fingers into the boy's mouth, past cracked lips and teeth. 

“Ннн…” the boy made a confused sound as fingers entered his mouth. He gagged on the gross taste of sand and salt, but soon it became tolerable as he got used to it. Boss' mechanical hand grabbed the boy's hands and pinned them above his head with an unbreakable grip that made the Russian yelp against the thick digits in his mouth. In the lack of light the usual vibrant crimson looked more akin to that of a clotted wound. Boss closed the little space that was between them, forcing his fingers just a bit further into his captive's mouth. A whimper-moan escaped his lips at the unexpected bombardment. 

Boss drew his fingers out and quickly turned the other around and spread the thick saliva over his entrance, making a wave of shivers undulate down the boy's shoulders and back. The younger man was thankful that he was pressed harshly against the wall for his legs would surely knock together if he was not. 

Boss pressed his knee between the boy's legs who spread them further to allow better access. Boss pressed his body firmly against his captive's back to where his mouth was level with his hair. The smell of sweat laid heavily on his blond head. 

Boss, slowly, as to not hurt the other, pressed one finger into the boy below him. The Russian let out a hiss.

He muttered “дерьмо́ ...” lowly under his breath as Boss went deeper, twisting it around, curling and pressing inside him. Boss found himself getting lost in this endeavor. 

“That's it...just like that.” He muttered, voice raspy from the harsh sand and wind. The boy knew not what was being said, he just knew that he liked it. A bit more than he should have, to be frank. He responded with a moan that made his back roll and his hips buck against Boss. 

A second finger teased at the boy's entrance. The Russian could only hum in pleasure, words lost in ecstasy. It entered him as gently yet firmly as the first had, Boss waiting to make sure not to hurt him. He delved his fingers deeper into the soldier, 

“трахаться...”

More words he didn't know, but again it didn't matter. He could hear how want laced the edges of his accent as it melted over the phrase. His fingers teased and pushed inside the boy, in turn he would respond with choked gasps, shivers and moans, broken Russian between pants and groans. 

The most forceful and harsh thing of the encounter was when Boss pushed the soldier unto the ground. The wind was knocked out of him and he began to fear for his life until he felt a heat press against his ass. His heart still pumped loudly as Boss, tired of waiting, thrust into him. 

“Боже мой!” the blond shouted. 

Boss' mechanical hand was wrapped around the back of the soldier's jacket whilst the other grabbed the Russian's cock and began to pump it at an unreasonably slow rhythm, which elicited a needy gasp from him. Boss pulled out and slammed his hips forward, again earning himself a yell from the soldier. 

“Like that?” he let out a gritty chortle and repeated his heavy thrusts again and again.

The blond responded with alternations of “трахаться!” Боже мой!” and other little words of pleasure and need that Boss couldn't understand. Boss continued this, letting the blond catch his breath between thrusts only to have it forced out in a moan a few seconds later. 

Tired of the lack of attention to his member, the soldier began stroking it on his own, panting a little as he did. Boss responded with a slap to the blond's ass. He made it hurt, that's for damn sure, for the boy choked on his breath and nearly froze in place. During his short period of bewilderment, Boss thrust particularly hard to jolt him out of it. The blond whimpered as his captor continued the slow pace, nearly drawing tears from him.

“Пожалуйста! Позвольте мне!” The soldier cried out through partially gritted teeth. 

Boss massaged the area he had slapped, and almost laughed at how clear the forming hand print was. The boy let out a mix between a cry and hum as Boss slapped it again, less hard but still made it smart. Boss let out a moan himself as he realized he was getting closer. He picked up his speed, letting his thrusts become shallow but still forceful. He placed both his hands on the blond's lower stomach, pulling him back towards him each time he pulled out. The soldier began letting out a continuous stream of sounds, all flowing into the next with each quick thrust. His cock throbbed, even without any stimulation. The muscles in his arms tensed up as he felt heat bubble and pop in his abdomen. Letting out one last cry of pleasure, his muscles locked up as he came. Boss continued to thrust in and out of him, pushing and pulling the soldier's hips to meet his. Just before climax he pulled out, and one, two, three, four seconds later, he came onto the blond's back. The soldier once again shivered at the odd sensation. Boss stood up, running a hand through his hair and picked up pages of the magazine that had been scattered around the floor. He used one to carefully clean off the come that stuck to the boy's back. He crumpled the soiled page into a ball and adjusted his gear. The boy did the same, fixing his hair in place with his own sweat, fixing his pants and shirt. 

Boss turned to leave, it was pitch black outside but the sand storm had cleared. Before crossing the threshold to the outside, he heard a small voice behind him. He turned, seeing the soldier had tried to talk to him.

“Uh....Th..Thank you-uh.”

Even though he was his enemy, at least he was polite.

**Author's Note:**

> theyre kinda out of order sorry  
> Что ты сказал, Даниил? - What was that, Daniel? (Daniel being another soldier)  
> дерьмо́! -Shit!  
> трахаться- Fuck!  
> Пожалуйста, не убивайте меня...я сделаю что-нибудь.- Please, don't kill me. I'll do anything.  
> Ннн… -Nnn... (yes i made his sound effects russian)  
> Боже мой!-Oh my God!  
> Пожалуйста! Позвольте мне!- Please! Let me come!


End file.
